Across Africa, women occupy a central place in subsistence agricultural production and account for up to 80% of food production in some communities. They are deeply involved in farming, food processing, preparation, and marketing.
Yet despite their significant role in feeding households and local economies, women’s contributions to agriculture and food systems remain largely undervalued and undercompensated. In many developing African countries, women face a range of structural obstacles that affect their ability to eat well. These include restrictive cultural practices, limited land ownership rights, unequal access to resources, and fragmented labour markets that keep them economically vulnerable and deficient.
An estimated 7.3 million adolescent girls and women of reproductive age in Nigeria are undernourished. In 2025, a meta-analysis indexed by the National Library of Medicine highlighted widespread micronutrient deficiencies among pregnant women and children under five. The study found that anemia affects 56% of children overall and 54% of women. Other nutrient shortages were also alarmingly high in some regions, including zinc (86.4%), magnesium (94%), and vitamin D (73.3%).
These statistics reveal a nutritional crisis affecting Nigerian women. While poverty and food insecurity are often cited as primary causes, another layer of the problem is less frequently examined: how food is distributed, prioritised, and consumed within households.
Misogyny permeates every area of women’s lives, food included. The issue of what many now describe as food misogyny recently gained attention on social media, where Nigerian and other African women began sharing experiences of being denied equal portions, served last, or restricted in what they were allowed to eat.
Women described growing up in homes where they were expected to eat smaller portions, regardless of hunger. Some recalled being served last, after their fathers and brothers had eaten. Others spoke of carefully rationing meat so that “there would be enough for the men,” even when they themselves had done the cooking.
Several women recounted how certain parts of animal meat were implicitly reserved for male family members: the chicken’s head, gizzard, liver, and intestines. These were treated as symbols of status or reward, often justified by the idea that men performed “hard labour” and therefore deserved more food.
Men’s entitlement to food is often excessive, reflecting broader gendered expectations around appetite and consumption. In many households, boys and men are served larger portions, sometimes enough to feed multiple female family members.
This behavior can also extend to hoarding food, with men keeping portions aside to eat later. In extreme cases, such entitlement has had fatal consequences, as seen in the tragic case of Mrs. Sokari, a 33-year-old mother of two from Buguma in Asari-Toru Local Government Area of Rivers State, who was reportedly stabbed to death by her husband, Ibikari, after she declined to cook and went out with friends to celebrate her birthday.
This control over women’s access to food extends beyond the home. Social norms, cultural expectations, and religious practices often reinforce the idea that women’s labour is both essential and invisible. Body image rhetoric glorifying thinness encourages girls and women to undereat, while men are encouraged to eat more to gain strength and build muscles.
Now, picture a religious celebration without women. It wouldn’t hold. Almost every such event relies heavily on women’s labour. Take Ramadan, for example: the beauty and “magic” of the season often rest on Muslim women’s work. From decorating homes and preparing traditional desserts to taking care of children, grocery shopping, and managing household supplies, much of the effort falls on them. At the end of the day, they serve the husbands and sons first and then eat whatever remains after.
Performing domestic labour on a regular day is one thing; performing it while fasting is another entirely.
As a collective, a reimagination of women’s value is long overdue. It requires confronting the subtle and overt ways society has normalized women’s deprivation, particularly through food misogyny. From serving women last at meals to reserving the best portions for men, from encouraging girls to eat less in the name of femininity to overlooking women’s nutritional needs despite their labour, these practices quietly reinforce hierarchy at the most basic level of survival.
Reimagining women’s value means questioning entitlement, redistributing labour more equitably, and ensuring that girls grow up understanding that everything about them matters, including their portion of food.
